CHAPTER SIX

It was the loveliest afternoon she’d had in a long, long time. The rain continued to hammer at the truck all the way into Casper, and it made the interior of the cab seem cozy and private. Despite the initial awkwardness, they managed to chat and laugh the entire two hours into the city. Dustin was smart and self-deprecating, and he made her giggle at his astute observations. He told her stories about crazy happenings at the ranch, interesting things that occurred in town, and the time one of the dogs ran off with his boot and he’d ended up hopping after it across an entire field.

Annie shared stories of her own, but they never seemed as exciting or funny as Dustin’s. But he seemed to like hearing them, so she kept talking, and before she knew it, they were in Casper and driving through the city to get to the shelter.

The moment they pulled up she felt a nervous hitch in her belly.

“You okay?” Dustin reached over and touched her hand. “We don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to.”

She offered him a weak smile. “This is the hardest part of the job. I have to find a dog I can train, a dog that will be all right around groups of people, a dog that can perform on camera. And he has to have a certain look. A lot of people get their dogs from breeders because they can at least take the ‘look’ part out of the equation, but I try to rescue. Even so, if he doesn’t fit what I need for the movie . . . I have to leave him behind. And that’s difficult. I feel like I’m betraying them every time I do.” She didn’t add the part where she usually spent the evening crying because all of the wistful, hopeful faces in the shelter with the wagging tails made her so sad. It was part of the job, and she told herself that over and over again. Someday she might actually even get used to it.

“Nothing wrong with having a soft heart,” Dustin told her. He squeezed her fingers. “I’m here to provide moral support if you need it.”

Strangely enough, that made her feel a little better. “I’ll settle for you watching Spidey while I sit with the new dog.”

“I can do that, too,” he said easily. “I’m a man of many talents.”

She blushed at that.

The rain let up a moment later and Annie managed to get Spidey harnessed without getting soaked. She set him down on the pavement despite the puddles, because he’d want to walk and stretch his legs, and she was grateful when Dustin immediately took the leash, leaving her hands free. “Why don’t I let him sniff around a little before we join you inside?”

“Great idea. Thank you.” Annie beamed at him for being so thoughtful, then headed in, steeling herself.

Shelters always made her emotional. As an animal lover, it tore at her heart to see so many little lives in need of saving when she was unable to do it. She both loved and hated the sad eyes and the wagging tails, because she was bound to disappoint them, just like how they’d been disappointed by the people that put them in this place. She knew she couldn’t save them all . . . but it didn’t mean she didn’t want to try.

The interior of the shelter was neat and clean and the woman at the front desk was snuggling a kitten. Annie smiled at her. “Hi. I called about the Bernese mountain dog? Has he been adopted?” Perhaps in the hours that it had taken her to get here, some family had wandered in and found the perfect playmate for their little boy and everyone would go home happy.

The woman beamed at her. “Hi, I’m Cara. You’re looking for Moose. And he hasn’t been adopted yet, no. Do you want to sit with him for a few?”

Annie’s heart gave another little squeeze. “I do. Thank you.”

“Right this way.” She put the kitten into a plush bed shaped like a strawberry, then gestured for Annie to follow her. Cara opened the door to the kennel area and immediately, dogs began to bark and howl at the tops of their lungs, desperate for attention. Her heart squeezed again every time they passed a cage with a tail-wagging pup and had to keep on walking past. Annie wanted to apologize to each and every one of the dogs for not picking them, for needing a specific kind of dog for the next movie. She even avoided eye contact, as if that would make things better somehow. Then, they were at the back of the long room and at the last cage.

And there was her dog. Moose.

He was enormous. There was no denying that. The thick, shaggy coat made him look bigger than he actually was but even so, he overflowed the square brown dog bed he was lying on. She noticed his food bowl was full—never a good sign with big dogs who had big appetites—and he didn’t raise his head as they approached. The big, liquid brown eyes were sad and his tail didn’t wag as he looked at them.

Obviously, he was depressed. Annie’s heart ached for him even as she worried that he might not be the right dog for her. Dogs that did well on set tended to be adaptable. They loved new people and new situations. A dog that struggled in strange atmospheres wouldn’t perform when she needed him to. With the right affection and patience, she was sure that he’d be a wonderful dog, but she didn’t have the time or the situation. But because she couldn’t leave without trying, she waited while Cara went into the kennel, coaxed him up, and then guided him to the visitor’s room. “I’ll leave you two here for a bit and you can see what you think.” Her eyes were full of sympathy. “Some dogs don’t do well in shelters and that doesn’t mean he’s not the right boy for you.”

“Thank you,” Annie said softly, sitting down in the only plastic chair in the sparse room. No dog toys, no treats, just her and a small, antiseptic room. There was nothing she could use to distract or entice the sad, defeated Moose in the hopes of seeing a spark of his personality. Hmm. She clapped her hands on her knees, trying to call him over, and when that didn’t elicit a response, she sank down on the floor next to him and petted his big, fuzzy head. His hair was matted and underneath all that fur he felt thin and bony. Poor thing probably wasn’t eating. With time, she could fix him. She knew it.

But that was the one thing she seemed to be running short on lately.

He was a beautiful dog, though, and purebred, unless she missed her guess. Hopefully he’d been loved by someone. She wondered if he knew a few tricks. “Can you give me your paw, Moose?”

No response.

“Sit? Stand? Heel? Roll over?”

Annie went through basic commands, and he didn’t act as if he’d heard any of them, even when she pulled out treats. So she petted Moose’s head and she fretted. She couldn’t take a chance on him, not if he wouldn’t be right for the movie. She wouldn’t be doing either one of them any favors if he couldn’t learn what she needed, and he’d be miserable on a busy movie set if he needed quiet.

But how could she leave him here when it was clearly killing his spirit?

There was a gentle knock at the door, and she looked up to see Dustin there, a muddy Spidey in his arms. She gestured for him to come inside, her heart heavy.

“How’s it going?” Dustin asked, closing the door behind him.

She wanted to tell him that it was going terrible, that this poor dog was depressed, but his tail started to wag. He stared up at Dustin and some of the hope returned to his expressive eyes.

“I’m not getting anything from him,” Annie admitted. “This is the first sign of life he’s shown.”

“Maybe he needs a friend. Is it okay if I put this meatball down?” He gestured at Spidey. When she nodded, he gently set the Boston down on the ground.

To her surprise, Moose kept staring up at Dustin and wagging his tail slowly, hopefully.

“I think he likes you,” she told him, surprised. “Maybe he responds to men instead of women.”

“Is that true?” Dustin knelt and spread his hands, trying to draw the dog to him. Immediately, Moose got up and went over to Dustin, who began to rub the fuzzy head. “Huh. Maybe so.” He looked up at Annie. “You going to get him for your movie?”

“I don’t think I can. The moment we wrap this one, I would need to start him on a training regimen. Even if I did take him, I don’t know how he’d react with crowds or if he can learn tricks. I think I could eventually get him to trust me, but he’d be better off with a guy, clearly.” As she watched, his tail slowly wagged and he looked up at Dustin adoringly. “But I hate the thought of walking away. He’s a beautiful dog but it’s obvious he’s depressed. I feel like if I leave him, it’s a death sentence.”

“This is a no-kill shelter,” Dustin pointed out. “But I know what you mean. He probably needs to run around and be out in the open, don’t you, buddy?” He rubbed the dog’s big head. “A movie’d probably be all wrong for you.”

“I really can’t take him with me,” Annie said, and it hurt to say it aloud. “I want to, but mostly because I think it’d be cruel to leave him here.” She hesitated, torn.

“I’ll take him, then.”

She blinked at Dustin in shock. “You what?”

He pulled the dog against him, manhandling him in an affectionate way. Moose let him—in fact, he seemed to love it, eyes closing in delight as Dustin roughly rubbed him. “We’ve got a half dozen ranch dogs already. He’ll fit right in with the crew. Even if he doesn’t work out for you, he’d be a good buddy for me as long as he doesn’t try to eat the cattle.”

“I don’t think his breed is aggressive,” she said faintly, still shocked at his generous heart. “A-are you sure? A dog’s a big commitment.”

“I like him. I like you.” He glanced over at her. “He’d be great on a ranch. It makes all of us happy. I don’t see the problem here. I didn’t show up today to get a dog, but I like this fella.” Dustin patted Moose’s hip and the dog looked as if he’d fall over in bliss.

“He does seem to like you.” Heck, she was almost jealous. Then again, could she blame Moose? Dustin was beyond charming—of course he was half in love with the cowboy. She was, too. “Dustin, I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, you could tell me your last name and let me treat you to dinner.”

She could feel herself blushing. Again. Seemed like all she did around him was blush. “You’re not doing this for me, I hope? It’s too big a commitment—”

“I’m doing this for him. I can’t let this sad little guy stay here, either.” He gave the dog a head rub that told her that no matter what, he’d be good with Moose.

Annie was so relieved and happy she wanted to cry. Or fling her arms around him. She wasn’t entirely sure which one yet. “Grissom. And I could cheerfully kiss you right about now.”

“Annie Grissom. That’s a pretty name. And I might take you up on that kiss later.”

Even though her cheeks were hot with embarrassment, she was smiling.